


Night Belongs to Them

by Tia_Pixie



Series: The Hobbit Related Fics [2]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Grumpy Fíli, Hurt/Comfort, Paternal!Thorin, The best laid plans..., tiredness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 07:08:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tia_Pixie/pseuds/Tia_Pixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This was not the time to be defying my leader.  Particularly not when all I could really think of doing in that moment was to stamp my foot and shout ‘No!’ repeatedly until he understood that I did not want to sleep, I did not want to lay down beside my ridiculous little brother and I did not want my uncle to be watching my every move."</p><p>Fili's plans to be seen as an adult are not going as he intended, but, on reflection, he's rather glad of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Belongs to Them

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you that have read my other Hobbit stories, this takes place between Ere Break of Day and Speak to Me Not of Loss. It's not necessary to have read either of them for this because it's not actually a continuation as such but it might be advisable to read Ere Break of Day first, just because it will make more sense. 
> 
> This is somewhere between leaving Bag End and encountering the trolls - I think that should only be about a day or two but for the sake of this story (and because it takes them longer than that in LOTR), I'm putting it at at least 4 days/nights.

* * *

We hadn’t intended for this to become our norm.  I certainly hadn’t and I wasn’t at all pleased that it had.  That first night – or last, depending on how you look at it – was supposed to be the only one.  One last night for my brother and me to be childish and excitable and in need of our Uncle’s watchful gaze to keep us under control.  But it hadn’t been the last.  Nor had any night thereafter.  This was intolerable!  We were supposed to be independent!  Hadn’t that been the plan when Kili and I had spoken of it, lying on the floor in Bilbo’s cosy little home, our Uncle dozing in the bed above us?  We would allow ourselves one more night to be his sister-sons and after that become the loyal comrades he needed us to be – mature, strong, capable adults who did not need our _Uncle_ looking over our shoulders every five minutes.  He had better things to worry about than whether his troublesome nephews were into mischief.

I shifted awkwardly, trapped as I was under my brother’s arm, turning to face the thick, dark forest.  Some of our older companions – those who had grown up in Erebor – thought the trees strange, worrisome things so different from the hard, unmoving mountains in which they had grown up.  Personally, I thought them wonderful for Kili and I had spent many a day hiding away in the green, sweet-smelling woods in Ered Luin.  Suddenly, movement not far off into the darkness caught my eye and I half reached for my sword above me.  A pony – Mildred, I believe – wandered lazily into view and I released a breath I had hardly realised I was holding.  Beside me, my brother half woke before rolling off of me and curling himself closer to Thorin with his usual ingenuousness.  I rolled my eyes and turned more fully onto my side with a well, a huff.

I lay for some time staring unseeingly into the darkness, my body taut as a bowstring as I listened to the collective snoring of our company.  How was it that thirteen dwarves, a hobbit and a wizard could cause so much noise and yet not attract the attentions of other creatures, yet both Gandalf and Thorin were constantly telling us to be quiet when we were travelling?  It was a wonder we hadn’t encountered any of the foul, evil creatures our Mother had warned us about before we left.  On some very base level, I was aware that my irritability was at least partially due to my fatigue.  In fact, I am certain that any and all of the ill-will I bore the rest of our company (excluding my brother and our leader) was entirely due to it.  Still, no matter.  I was wet, I was exhausted from the day, and all of my efforts to prove my maturity to Thorin were being _constantly_ undermined by my brother’s insistence on acting like a dwarf tot in constant need of his attention.  Quite suddenly, Kili gave a loud snore, flipping over in his sleep ( _supposedly_ ) and thumping me in the face with one arm.  I thought I would burst from the fury.  Instead, I grabbed hold of the errant limb and shoved it back at its owner, adding a slight kick in the shin as recompense.  He did not even move.  I was half to my feet when:

“Where do you think you’re going?”  Thorin had not so much as stirred.  I froze – had I become so used to his watching me that I had begun hearing his voice in my head?  Peering cautiously at him, I slowly carried on until I was stood, crouched over, on both feet.  “Fili?”

I cursed under my breath – Thorin _had_ woken then.  Cursing under my breath, I rose the rest of the way then turned.  He frowned up at me, blinking sleep from his eyes. 

“Nowhere, Thorin,” I daresay I sounded a tad peevish – I certainly felt it, “Just…can’t sleep.”

Thorin pushed himself up on one elbow, fully awake now, and gazed at me appraisingly.  “You would sleep better,” he said meaningfully, “if you would lie down.”

I felt indignation and unfairness bubbling inside of me.  “I have _been_ lying down – ” I ground out furiously, breaking off at the warning glare he directed at me.  Taking a deep breath, I checked my tone.  “I have been lying down, Thorin,” I informed him as calmly as I could, “but I _cannot_ sleep.”

We both dropped our gazes as, between us, Kili muttered in his sleep and changed position again.  I watched as Thorin’s face softened slightly – as so _many_ people’s so often did when looking at my brother…when he wasn’t speaking anyway – and he lifted my brother’s blanket further up his shoulders where it had slipped down.  I released a short, disbelieving laugh and he glared again.

“Fili,” Thorin began firmly, making a space between himself and Kili “lie back down here, with your brother, and sleep.”

I could feel myself trembling with the effort of keeping from screaming at him.  I had no hope of sleep – nor in that particular moment, did I wish to – and I certainly had no particular interest in being anywhere near my brother.  I attempted to take deep, calming breaths and, once I trusted myself to speak rather than shout, I said very quietly, “No.”

He looked faintly surprised, which is about as surprised as Thorin ever allows himself to look.  He sat up properly now, gazing at me intently as if I were something totally foreign to him.  He did not speak, seeming to consider my reply very carefully.

A nagging voice in the back of my mind told me that I was over-reacting, that I was simply tired and ill-tempered from the hard day’s travel; this was not the time to be defying my leader.  Particularly not when all I could really think of doing in that moment was to stamp my foot and shout ‘ _No_!’ repeatedly until he understood that I did not _want_ to sleep, I did not _want_ to lay down beside my ridiculous little brother and I did not _want_ my uncle to be watching my every move.  Concerned, calculating eyes always watching me, always seeking me out when we made camp, seeing that I was eating enough, waking every time I awoke and not sleeping again until I did.  Did he not see that this was _ridiculous_ , that he had far greater, far more important things to concern himself with than _me_?

Acutely aware that his eyes were still on me, I set my jaw and did not look at him, determined _for once_ to wait him out.

“Very well,” he said finally.  Not one single, solitary part of me rejoiced in winning our battle of silence.  “If you will not sleep, then Balin is on watch duty; he will welcome your company, I am sure.”  He lay back down, closing the gap between himself and Kili again and closed his eyes.  I ordered myself to feel victorious, happy and mature but instead I felt only hopeless, lonely and, now that I thought about it, freezing cold.  I glanced down – Kili was half lying on my coat.

To my horror, I felt tears stinging my eyes.  Wiping at my nose, I turned and made my way towards the lookout point.

* * *

 

By the time I had stepped over the mass of sleeping dwarves and almost stepped _on_ poor Bilbo, my eyes had mostly dried though I still felt a little shaky.  Finding Balin smoking his pipe, I sat down next to him, wishing I had thought to bring mine with me.  “ ‘lo, Mister Balin,” I murmured as I sat.

He turned surprised eyes on me; I had not called him ‘Mister’ in many years now and I couldn’t think why I did it then.  I studiously avoided his gaze as I felt the blush creeping up my neck.

“Fili,” he greeted cheerfully. “I did not know you were awake.”

“Yes,” I said simply, unsure what else I was supposed to say.  We sat in slightly awkward silence for a few minutes before he released a soft ‘oh!’ and offered me his pipe.  I thanked him, taking it and puffing on it slowly. 

“So, bad dreams?  Or perhaps you’re unwell?” He asked kindly, turning to look at me.  Was I doomed to be forever supervised by those I wished would see me as equal?  Wordlessly, I handed him back his pipe.  “Homesick?” He continued to prompt, bushy brows creased in sympathy.

“No,” I told him mildly, though as I said it I thought of Ered Luin and my mother filled my head and I felt my throat constrict again.  “Just...not tired.”  Ridiculous thing to say.  Childish, painfully obvious lie.  I felt myself blushing fiercely and hoped that in the semi-darkness he would not see.

“Ah.”

Silence descended between us once more and I cursed myself for coming out here – for sticking him with my pitiful company when he could have sat out here enjoying his peaceful smoke.  I felt perfectly wretched.  And entirely at odds with both my Uncle and (though he did not know it) brother.  Suddenly, the familiar smell of Balin’s particular blend of pipe weed hit me and I could think only of home; of long, wild adventures that never took us more than an hour from our door, of years of training or working with my Uncle in the forge and coming home to sweet, delicious foods made by my mother and nights spent planning mischief late into the night with my brother.  Bilbo had bemoaned that we were further away from home than he had ever been after our first three days travelling; I had kept it to myself that my brother and I had crossed that milestone within the first twelve hours of ours.

“Fili?  What is it, laddie?”

I started, realising my face was wet.  Embarrassed, I wiped it away with one sleeve, looking away from Balin.  Again, juvenile response.  Childish, _childish_ little…well, child.  “Nothing,” I choked, my voice catching.

Balin, soft-hearted, wonderful, old fool that he is, would have none of it.  Setting his pipe down, he turned me back towards him, raising my chin with his finger when I refused to look at him. 

“Fili?”

I broke.  Suddenly, I wanted, nay, I _needed_ to tell someone all that Kili and I had discussed the night we spent at Bilbo’s home, and everything I had tried to do since then – all the attempts at independence, the constant refusal to be drawn into _any_ devilry by my little brother, my frustration at my brother’s not making good on our plan.  And, when I had done that and he had nodded sympathetically commending me for my forethought and consideration for the company, I went on.  Like a swollen river, I could not stop myself from blurting out everything that had been on my mind that night.  Thorin’s insistence each night since we left Hobbiton that Kili and I sleep if not next to him, then at least _near_ him, that we eat even when we had gone past the point of tiredness to when our need for food paled in comparison.  Everything.  Every little, seemingly insignificant thing that both Kili and my Uncle had, however unintentionally, done that undermined everything that _I_ was attempting to do.

“And I’m _so_ tired, Balin,” I finished at last, miserably.  I was vaguely aware that he had, at some point, removed one of his own layers to wrap around me and I clutched it to me now, gratefully resting my head on his shoulder. As if to emphasise my point, I yawned widely.

“I should say you are,” he agreed, patting my face gently. 

“What should I do?” I asked, not feeling at all mature or grown-up as I had been trying to prove to Thorin.

He gazed at me, now that I was finally willing to look back, his eyes twinkling as he smiled down at me.  “Well, what do _you_ think you should do?”

I hesitated, stuck between my immediate answer and the answer I felt I ought to give.  “Tell Uncle Thorin?”  I half asked, half answered, in a pathetically small voice and cursing myself for referring to him as such.

“I think that would be best, my boy.”

“I’m meant to be an adult,” I lamented, as if he hadn’t attended my coming of age.

Smiling fondly at me, he patted my shoulder comfortingly but did not speak anymore until:

“Well, my watch is over,” he informed me, heaving himself to his feet and holding out a hand to help me up, bless him.  “Help an old man back to his bed, won’t you?  There’s a good lad.”

We trudged the short distance back to camp in thoughtful silence.  “I think it would be best,” Balin advised as we neared our sleeping companions, “if you were to return to your own bed before I wake Gloin for his watch – he is liable to kick.”

Grinning slightly, I thanked him, returning him his jacket and turned towards my bedding again.  My breath caught in my throat as I saw my Uncle, quite awake and sat up, evidently waiting for me.  I turned back to Balin but he himself was also watching Thorin.  They nodded at one another and returned to their own business, my Uncle standing and raising his brows imperiously at me.  Suddenly, I wondered where my previous ire had gone for I did not at all feel the new, mature, rightfully annoyed, grown-up Fili but rather the all too familiar regretful, embarrassed and more than a little scared Fili, in trouble again with no real clue as to what madness had possessed me to bring me here.

Expecting to be reprimanded for my earlier behaviour, which, now that I thought about it, had really more resembled the defiantly disrespectful little boy that my brother was so used to being than the dignified, responsible adult that I had been attempting to be, I was surprised when my Uncle drew me into his embrace.  I closed my eyes against the wash of emotions that threatened to overcome me, wrapping my arms about his broad back and feeling him press my head to his shoulder.  Again, propriety and my shaky understanding of adulthood ordered that I stop this at once and escape with whatever dignity I had left.  But then my Uncle – my ever-watchful, stern, _strong_ Uncle – sat down, drawing me down with him and back into his arms.  Whatever reserves of adulthood I had left in me crumbled and suddenly, something became oh so very, wretchedly clear to me.

I could not give this up.  I simply could _not_ give up this bond that had been nurtured between us since the day of my birth.  The very attempt at it had driven me near mad with loss!  I had thought to make things easier for the company – for my Uncle – but oh!  To feel his broad arms about me and his beard scratching against mine as I buried my face further into the crook of his shoulder, to _smell_ that achingly familiar scent of smoke and leather mixed with something headier like mountain pines that was so much my Uncle, so uniquely him that I wanted to cry all the harder just from the thought of never having this closeness again!  I could not do it and I felt sickened at the thought that I had tried to force that separation on my little brother.

Vaguely, after what seemed like hours, I became aware of my Uncle’s low rumbling voice speaking very quietly to me, his voice reverberating inside of me where I lay upon his chest.  I was disorientated; I had no clue as to what he had been saying or even how long he had been speaking.  I forced myself to quiet somewhat, as was his intention, and tried very hard to listen to his words.

“…understand what you were trying to do, Fili,” he was murmuring, his breath tickling my ear so as not to wake Kili – though, if my brother had slept through the to-do I must have been making _and_ the noise of our companions which, now that I heard it again seemed so much quieter, then I doubted the simple noise of my Uncle’s voice in my ear would rouse him.    “…I am not ungrateful…”

I was fading very quickly now, could feel myself slipping in and out of sleep, being lulled by my Uncle’s warmth and his deep, slow voice, so stern and yet so blessedly familiar that it could not fail to bring comfort.

“Fili?”  He waited a moment then, “Fili? Are you awake?”

Was I?  I honestly couldn’t have said at that point.  I was aware of him, certainly, but everything moved so slowly that by the time I registered what he had said, he was already saying something new.  ‘Twas hardly fair.

“Uh huh,” I breathed, after a while, completely unable to summon the energy to say anything else.

I felt his chest jerk as he huffed a small laugh.  It was just enough to wake me slightly from my stupor, enough to raise my head off of his chest for a moment and look at him anyway.

“Fili,” he repeated, brushing wayward strands of hair away from my face.  “I will not tell you to stop, and I will not try to tell you that this newfound wealth of maturity and good behaviour of yours has not made my life a good deal easier of late but this price is too great, do you understand?”

I blinked dazedly at him, replaying his words in my mind.  There had been a lot of words…some of them very long.  I nodded slightly, believing myself to have gotten the gist of it. 

“I will not allow this forced detachment from me any longer,” he continued, sounding firmer by the second.  So much so, in fact, that I had nagging feeling that I ought to pay more attention or risk being reprimanded properly this time.  “You have tried hard, and admirably, but it will stop _now_.” 

I nodded quickly, recognising _that_ tone.

“From daybreak, until we make camp at night, you must try your hardest – as you have been – to uphold your position in the company with honour and loyalty as I know you can do.  I need you at my side, not under my feet, yes?”  Quick nod, to show that I understood and, though the ‘under my feet’ stung a little, my heart lifted at his asking me to be ‘at his side’.  “But,” he continued slowly as if the next part were of great importance, I listened and watched, mesmerised, “at night, after the ponies are taken care of and we are at rest, I will not accept any less of you than yourself.  Is that clear?”

No.  Not at all. 

Seeing my hesitation, my Uncle smiled slightly before his face became expressionless once more.  “I mean, that when night comes, I would have my _nephews_ beside me as I always have in the past.  I will not demand your obedience, though,” he paused, his voice taking on the familiar warning tone, “it is _strongly_ advised.  I cannot promise to be any less watchful of you for this is your scheme, not mine, but I will not force you to sleep near me if you truly do not wish to.”  His face became a fraction less stern and I fancied something playful glinted in his eyes.  “I do however, insist you do _sleep_.  No more sneaking away in the middle of the night, hm?”

“You _told_ me to go to Balin!”  I accused quietly.

“ _After_ you insisted on getting up.”

“I’m sorry,” I offered, in a small voice and, I confess, doing perhaps my best impression of my little brother to date.  To my surprise, my Uncle shook his head.

“It is not needed,” he told me, sighing, “I know how tiredness breeds such petulance in my nephews and I am nothing if not sympathetic.”

From our left there came a sudden badly disguised snort.  “Have you something to say, little boy?”  My Uncle asked forebodingly.

Turning to us, my brother opened his eyes.  “Erm, good morning?”

My brother was nothing if not optimistic.  Today, that optimism paid off – though, in truth, it often did with people other than our Uncle.  He ‘hmmed’ at Kili but allowed it to pass since he had, I think, been intending the statement as a joke.  Shifting me from where I had virtually been on top of him, to lie between him and my brother, my Uncle turned to face us both.  We obediently turned to face him too, Kili edging up behind me until I put one arm around him – awkward to do, but not entirely uncomfortable. 

“You heard all that, I assume?”

I felt Kili nod against my shoulder.

“Good, then I shall not have to repeat myself.  I expect you to obey as well, Kili.”

Another nod, slower but emphatic.

“We have a few hours before dawn,” our Uncle informed us, glancing at the sky through the trees.  “Both of you, go back to sleep.”

I sighed, relieved; I was so tired by this point that I doubted even having Bombur drooling and snoring down my ear would have kept me from sleep.  Suddenly, a thought struck me.

“Uncle?” He sighed frustratedly and I did truly feel guilty for interrupting him now that he was finally allowing himself to go back to sleep too.  “What if…what if I don’t remember in the morning?”

“Don’t worry,” whispered my brother from behind me, his chin resting on my shoulder, “I’ll remember for all three of us.”

“Three?” I whispered back, confused.

“In case he forgets next time we’re wicked that he, well,” he shrugged, “I mean he’s _basically_ given us permission.”

I joined in his giggling, my misery from earlier completely forgotten for the moment.  My irrepressibly impish baby brother, as if he would ever have allowed something as cumbersome as adulthood to interfere with his fun for too long.  We continued laughing for some time – every time one of us stopped, the other one started again.

I wondered that our Uncle allowed us to continue for so long until suddenly, he released such a snore as to rival Bombur’s.  Glancing at each other, my brother and I dissolved into more of the giggling of the truly exhausted until there came a sudden and very annoyed sounding, “Do you two _ever_ sleep?  You know, at the _same time_?”

Our hobbit’s wearied disposition and sleep-tousled hair, the sudden relative quiet of the others who were still sleeping, and the now quietened snoring from our Uncle we did at last (in my case anyway) settle down to sleep.  I awoke several hours later to find the packs all ready except my own, the fire stomped out and my companions awaiting me.  Leaping up, I caught the would-be blanket that had been laid on top of me just before it hit the ground (not that it would really have mattered, but it was the principle of it) and was surprised as Thorin grabbed at it, swinging his fur coat on and thrusting bread into my hands, barking orders at us all.

In the hours of daylight, we are his to command – unerringly – his loyal subjects.  But in the dark, away from the taunting eyes of our oh-so-grown-up companions, we are who we have always been.  My companions may take up Thorin Oakenshield’s thoughts and watchful eyes whilst we travel, but his nights belong to us.

**Author's Note:**

> So, what did you think? Leave a comment, I'd love to hear from you - good or bad!


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